Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 27 Nov 2024, 20:23
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
“The one who showed him mercy,” replied the expert in the law.
Then Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” —Luke 10:36-37 (BSB)
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
Go and do likewise indeed. We often miss out those most important words. I once belonged to a religious group that believed it held a unique claim as God’s chosen people. While I initially embraced this identity, over time, I struggled with the exclusivity of the idea. I wrestled with the question: how could we assert this while countless Christians throughout history and across the world have made incredible sacrifices for God and Jesus? We like things to be all neat like a bento box; easily categorised, but that's not how I read the scriptures.
When I thought about the lives of other believers, both past and present, their acts of service, love, and sacrifice stood as powerful testimonies to the faith they professed. On cold winter nights, Christians comb the streets, offering warmth and hope to the homeless. Others dedicate their lives to orphan care, or volunteer aboard Mercy Ships, bringing medical aid to those in dire need. These examples of selfless service resonated deeply with me, challenging the boundaries of what it means to be "God's people."
The stories of missionaries like William Carey, Hudson Taylor, and Amy Carmichael further complicated my perspective. William Carey, the "Father of Modern Missions," left behind a stable life to immerse himself in India’s linguistic and cultural complexities. His translations of the Bible opened the Gospel to millions, despite the personal cost of losing a son and witnessing his wife’s descent into mental illness. Similarly, Hudson Taylor’s work in China required him to abandon not only the comforts of home but also the expectations of his own culture, enduring profound personal loss and alienation for the sake of the Gospel.
Then there’s Mary Slessor, a Scottish woman whose missionary work in Nigeria involved facing malaria, extreme isolation, and deep cultural barriers. Her courage in opposing harmful practices like the killing of twins and her nurturing care for abandoned children embodied a faith that transcended doctrine and embraced action.
Each story is unique, yet they share a common thread: an unwavering commitment to serve God by serving others, often at immense personal cost. Adoniram Judson, imprisoned and tortured in Burma, or Eric Liddell, who traded Olympic glory for missionary work in China, did not measure their faith by the boundaries of religious affiliation but by their love for God and humanity.
This realization forced me to confront the narrowness of the claim that any one group could exclusively represent God. How could I ignore the lives of those who had poured themselves out in faith and love, whether in remote African villages, bustling Indian cities, or freezing Siberian prisons? The sacrifices of figures like Jim Elliot, martyred while reaching out to the Huaorani people, or Amy Carmichael, who rescued children from temple prostitution, left me in awe of their boundless devotion.
Their examples remind me of Christ’s words: “By their fruits you will recognize them” (Matthew 7:16). Faith, I have come to believe, is less about belonging to a particular group and more about living in a way that reflects God’s love. The fruits of compassion, service, and selflessness, demonstrated by these Christians and many like them, reveal the heart of true discipleship.
Reflecting on these lives challenges me to broaden my understanding of what it means to belong to God. It is not about exclusivity but about embodying the spirit of Christ: a spirit of humility, love, and sacrifice. These individuals, and many nameless others, remind us that faith is not confined to the walls of a particular denomination or the borders of a specific group. It is alive wherever people serve God by serving others.
In their lives, I see not competition for belonging but a shared calling that transcends divisions. The hands that offer bread to the hungry, the feet that walk miles to reach the unreached, and the hearts that give without measure—these are the marks of God’s people. And in this shared mission, I find a sense of unity that is far greater than any claim to exclusivity.
Faith Beyond Borders—this is the lesson I have come to embrace. True faith, like the sacrifices of those who serve it, knows no boundaries. It speaks in every language, walks in every land, and serves in every heart willing to heed the call.
Faith Beyond Borders
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
“The one who showed him mercy,” replied the expert in the law.
Then Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” —Luke 10:36-37 (BSB)
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
Go and do likewise indeed. We often miss out those most important words. I once belonged to a religious group that believed it held a unique claim as God’s chosen people. While I initially embraced this identity, over time, I struggled with the exclusivity of the idea. I wrestled with the question: how could we assert this while countless Christians throughout history and across the world have made incredible sacrifices for God and Jesus? We like things to be all neat like a bento box; easily categorised, but that's not how I read the scriptures.
When I thought about the lives of other believers, both past and present, their acts of service, love, and sacrifice stood as powerful testimonies to the faith they professed. On cold winter nights, Christians comb the streets, offering warmth and hope to the homeless. Others dedicate their lives to orphan care, or volunteer aboard Mercy Ships, bringing medical aid to those in dire need. These examples of selfless service resonated deeply with me, challenging the boundaries of what it means to be "God's people."
The stories of missionaries like William Carey, Hudson Taylor, and Amy Carmichael further complicated my perspective. William Carey, the "Father of Modern Missions," left behind a stable life to immerse himself in India’s linguistic and cultural complexities. His translations of the Bible opened the Gospel to millions, despite the personal cost of losing a son and witnessing his wife’s descent into mental illness. Similarly, Hudson Taylor’s work in China required him to abandon not only the comforts of home but also the expectations of his own culture, enduring profound personal loss and alienation for the sake of the Gospel.
Then there’s Mary Slessor, a Scottish woman whose missionary work in Nigeria involved facing malaria, extreme isolation, and deep cultural barriers. Her courage in opposing harmful practices like the killing of twins and her nurturing care for abandoned children embodied a faith that transcended doctrine and embraced action.
Each story is unique, yet they share a common thread: an unwavering commitment to serve God by serving others, often at immense personal cost. Adoniram Judson, imprisoned and tortured in Burma, or Eric Liddell, who traded Olympic glory for missionary work in China, did not measure their faith by the boundaries of religious affiliation but by their love for God and humanity.
This realization forced me to confront the narrowness of the claim that any one group could exclusively represent God. How could I ignore the lives of those who had poured themselves out in faith and love, whether in remote African villages, bustling Indian cities, or freezing Siberian prisons? The sacrifices of figures like Jim Elliot, martyred while reaching out to the Huaorani people, or Amy Carmichael, who rescued children from temple prostitution, left me in awe of their boundless devotion.
Their examples remind me of Christ’s words: “By their fruits you will recognize them” (Matthew 7:16). Faith, I have come to believe, is less about belonging to a particular group and more about living in a way that reflects God’s love. The fruits of compassion, service, and selflessness, demonstrated by these Christians and many like them, reveal the heart of true discipleship.
Reflecting on these lives challenges me to broaden my understanding of what it means to belong to God. It is not about exclusivity but about embodying the spirit of Christ: a spirit of humility, love, and sacrifice. These individuals, and many nameless others, remind us that faith is not confined to the walls of a particular denomination or the borders of a specific group. It is alive wherever people serve God by serving others.
In their lives, I see not competition for belonging but a shared calling that transcends divisions. The hands that offer bread to the hungry, the feet that walk miles to reach the unreached, and the hearts that give without measure—these are the marks of God’s people. And in this shared mission, I find a sense of unity that is far greater than any claim to exclusivity.
Faith Beyond Borders—this is the lesson I have come to embrace. True faith, like the sacrifices of those who serve it, knows no boundaries. It speaks in every language, walks in every land, and serves in every heart willing to heed the call.